Wedding Bells (FrUs Gift)
by really-america
Summary: Alfred and Francis prep for their wedding, and then spend a heated wedding night together to kick off their honeymoon.


As in love as Alfred was, and even as utterly elated as he felt about just how imminent his wedding to Francis was, the young man had yet to have been hit with the eye-watering realization that he was preparing to officially bind his heart to his lover in a short two months. He hadn't even cried when he proposed and— to his highest delight —Francis said yes. So busy had he and his fiancé been, flying back and forth across the ocean and figuring out how to make their enormous and extravagant wedding work, that the time had flown by without him paying it much mind.

But the wedding was getting close, and Francis had told him they absolutely had to go tux shopping. Immediately. Alfred, of course, happily agreed and set off for his lover's grotesquely expensive tailor with him.

When they arrived in the high class boutique, Alfred described the sort of things he hoped for in his own attire, and Francis flitted off to find something for him. He returned with a deep blue tux that was even more perfect than what Alfred imagined it would be. Francis practically shoved him into a dressing stall, urging him to try it on.

After carefully buttoning himself into the classy suit, Alfred threw aside the curtain and posed for his husband-to-be. Francis clapped and smiled like he'd never been more excited.

"Alfred, mon amant, you are the most handsome prince. That suit looks très magnifique on you!" Alfred looked down at himself as Francis spoke. The suit really did look good on him. The color was flattering, and it was already an almost perfect fit. After the tailor fixed the sleeves just a tad, it would be without flaw.

"Thanks, babe. I'm glad you picked it out for me, I absolutely couldn't have found anything better. You're the best." Alfred replied with a subtle, flattered blush on his face.

He walked over and pressed his lips to Francis' forehead.

"C'est ne rien pas. Perhaps the only thing I'm more excited for than seeing you wearing it at the altar is tearing it off of you later that night." Francis said in a sultry whisper. Alfred tilted his head and kissed Francis on the mouth before pulling away and smirking.

"You'd rip a wedding memento? I don't believe that for a second. Now, you horny Frenchman, go find your own dream tux and show me how hot my husband is gonna look at our reception." Alfred teased, beginning to walk back towards his dressing area, and unbuttoning his jacket.

"You got me, I'm sentimental. What a crime. Mais, oui, you're right. I will go get myself a tuxedo so that we can be the best dressed grooms of all time." And with that he disappeared into the store. Alfred got his suit off and found the tailor, got measured, and gave him his suit to sew all before Francis returned from the racks of clothing. He held the garment bag behind his back as he approached the dressing room, grinning crookedly at Alfred.

"I think I found a good one. It's either going to be awful, or absolutely parfait. I'm going to try it on and surprise you with what I picked out, and then you can give me your opinion, d'accord?" Alfred nodded at Francis, and watched curiously as he slipped into one of the stalls. He waited patiently, listening to the rustling of fabrics, and chewed his lip.

Finally, Francis walked out.

His suit was a light purple-y blue color (was it periwinkle? he tried to remember the colors Francis had taught him when he tried to teach him about painting) and was made of a fabric that wasn't quite shiny but was beyond matte. It was sheen in a way that made it look almost surreal. And the way it hugged Francis' body so nicely, good god. He had a little white silk flower pinned to his lapel, and folded in his pocket was a pink satin handkerchief. His tie matched the exact shade of the handkerchief, and the shirt he had underneath was floral without being so overly eye-catching that it drew away from the big picture of Francis in the suit.

And was that big picture stunning. Francis seemed to glow. He was always a beautiful person, but Alfred felt almost blinded by his radiance as he stood in that godlike tux with the joy of someone who was going to be married soon and a tentative smile on his face. And he cried.

He cried because he couldn't believe he was the luckiest man to have ever lived, and perhaps that would ever live.

"It's perfect, you're perfect." He whispered. And he cried.

— • — • — • —

On the day of their wedding, Alfred cried again. He cried as a violinist played the wedding march at just the right tempo and he watched Francis walk up the aisle towards him. It was much less sniffly and heavy than the shopping trip crying had been, but it was there. Little rivulets of inexplicable joy trickled down his cheeks. He kept repeating "I'm just so lucky" in his head, and smiling at his groom like the lovesick puppy he'd been since the day they'd met.

When they stood face to face, Francis wiped away his tears. Symbolic, really, of all the times he'd done it before and of all the times he was just about to vow to do it for the rest of his life. Alfred could scarcely blink because he didn't want to miss a millisecond. He was living a fairytale, and Francis was without a doubt the fairest of them all. This was the beginning of their happy ending, and neither of the men could even breathe quite normally because they were so filled with excitement.

When their lips met after their vows, and everyone clapped in celebration, tears from each man's eyes mingled in their embrace. The tears, and they, were one.

— • — • — • —

"Alright, alright, everybody settle down. I know this dinner is a blast, but I'm quiet and you're gonna wanna hear every word of my sappy best man speech." Matthew began, pouring his glass nice and full with champagne. Setting down the bottle, he held up the glass in the direction of the newlyweds, smiling happily at them.

"I have been so lucky to have two people as wonderful as you two in my life, and I can't begin to describe how happy I am that you've found everything you ever dreamed of in each other. To say the cliché, it feels like just yesterday when you two got together. Alfred came to me after your first real date and absolutely could not stop rambling about how hot his crush was. I'd never seen him so flustered over romance before and I had a feeling that you were really going to be something as a couple. And here we are, years later, celebrating how far you've come and will go together. Hopefully not as far as a random Mexican town while drunk, like last Halloween, but everywhere else. Side by side. To Alfred and Francis Jones-Bonnefoy!" And with his final comment, the room clapped and cheered a little as he tossed his drink back, before they all followed suit. Arthur was sniveling like a sentimental mother. It was beautiful.

When the newly married men cut their buttercream frosted wedding cake together, Alfred let Francis lick the frosting off of his fingers, watching his husbands mouth while his own lips twisted in a crooked grin, and Francis smushed a huge chunk into Alfred's face so that he could kiss it off. Gilbert whistled and Roderich punched him in the arm, and everyone could see how perfect the two newlyweds were together.

When the song "Waterloo" (which Alfred had told the DJ to play) came on, even though he rolled his eyes and groaned in protest, Francis joined his husband on the dance floor.

"This is, without contest, the absolute worst first dance song in all history." Francis told Alfred, all the while wearing the biggest smile on his face. Alfred clicked his tongue.

"I don't think that's fair. Wonderwall would be way worse, and I considered that, too." Shaking his head, Francis didn't even bother responding. Instead, he listened as Alfred switched from talking to singing along with the song.

"Promise to love you forever more. Waterloo, couldn't escape if I wanted to. Waterloo, knowing my fate is to be with you." Alfred spun Francis around and despite the irony of the song and the missed opportunity for a sappy French song to have been played, he couldn't be happier. The dopey, blissful grin on Alfred's face was all he could really ask for, charming lyrics or not. Without worrying about swallowing pride or the like, Francis found himself joining in.

"Waterloo, finally facing my Waterloo."

— • — • — • —

"Alfred– ooh—oof- you don't have to do this!" Francis reminded his new husband as he scooped him up bridal style at the door of their hotel suite.

"I know I don't have to, but it's a cute tradition. Plus, it'll make it all the easier to slam you down onto the bed." Alfred replied. Francis almost rolled his eyes at the accompanying wink, but just smiled instead.

Pushing the door open with his knee, and then shoving their suitcases in and against the wall, Alfred carried Francis over the threshold and into their room. He bumped the door shut with his butt, and walked towards the bed. Setting Francis on the puffy silk comforter, Alfred looked at the view from their attached patio. White sand and empty waves as far as the eye could see, accentuated perfectly by the fact that it was exactly sunset. How cheesy and picturesque. But even such a pretty sight didn't hold his gaze for very long, because Francis was pulling at his tie and chewing his lip in impatience.

Alfred leaned down and pressed his mouth heavily against his husband's, eliciting a pleased little sound in response. Francis worked at undoing his tie, slender hands deftly loosening and untying the knot without sacrificing the full quality of his mouth's movements against Alfred's. When he started for Alfred's shirt's top button, Alfred lifted Francis and set him further back on the bed, climbing up after him once he set him down again. Knelt over Francis, he tugged the pretty pastel jacket off of the Frenchman.

"This," Francis said as their lips separated temporarily and he neared the last button of Alfred's shirt. "is like unwrapping the best gift I've ever received. You are so beautiful, my douce Alfred."

"Nowhere near as beautiful as you, babe," Alfred responded, voice low. Francis felt a tingle up his spine. He loved hearing his American lover's voice dip down like that, sounding thick with lust and need. He sounded a little older, and very hot. He yanked Alfred's shirt off and dropped it over the side of the bed, snaking his hands up Alfred's bare chest and to his strong shoulders.

Alfred's hands fumbled with Francis' shirt buttons in his eagerness, but he managed to undo them and then lower his head and kiss from the middle of his abdomen up to his nipples and then higher to his neck. How Alfred was kneeling had his thigh pressing between Francis' legs with just enough pressure that it was rubbing him a little whenever he shifted or moved. Francis was huffing in reaction to the sudden ambush of sensation. Most of all the neck kisses and the leg between his own, but as one of Alfred's hands roamed his chest, that, too, gave him chills.

"Help me out of these pants, would you?" Francis asked lovingly, words a bit breathy due to the attention the sweet spot on his neck was receiving, while shimmying his hips flat against the bed.

"Of course." Alfred answered with a grin, quickly unzipping them and then sliding them down Francis' thighs. He made sure to brush his hands against the bulge between his husbands legs as he did so, as well as trail his fingers down the soft and hairy flesh of his legs. Once they were off he moved them aside, not even bothering to check that they didn't remain on the bed. And Francis was attacking his belt buckle, eager to have his lover as stripped as he was.

Alfred resumed nipping and kissing at Francis' neck, one hand tangled into Francis' hair and the other holding himself propped above him on the bed. Francis managed to get Alfred's suit pants to his knees before he melted into a weaker state under his lips and teeth. A small, soft grunt escaped his pink mouth as Alfred's leg returned against his boxers. Alfred felt the heat of desire flush his face red upon hearing Francis' unintended sound of encouragement.

Wriggling his pants the rest of the way off, he situated himself so that he could press the whole length of his body against Francis. He even ground his hips down onto him. Francis gasped quietly, both the sound and the hot breath came out right near Alfred's ear, as his face was still buried in Francis' neck. Goosebumps prickled Alfred's skin in his excitement.

"J'ai besoin de toi, mon amour," Francis whispered greedily in Alfred's ear. Alfred swallowed hard.

"I need you, too." He said, agreeing. And he pushed up from the bed, reluctantly, and pulled over Francis' suitcase. Unzipping the front pocket and avoiding all the neatly folded clothes, he pulled out a bottle of lubricant.

Francis wiggled against the comforter as he pulled his underwear off, shivering a little as the warmth of his arousal felt the air. He watched with excited eyes as Alfred unscrewed the lube and doused his hands with the stuff. Biting his lip, he let his eyes droop shut as Alfred spread his legs. He didn't look but he could still just see Alfred's hands moving towards him.

Alfred placed one hand on the inside of Francis' thigh to help keep his legs open, and the other hand pressed between his round cheeks. He dropped his mouth low onto Francis' inner thigh, and began to suck and close his teeth just hard enough on the skin, eyes not fully open but looking up at his face. He slowly began to push his finger into Francis, causing a few happy pants as knuckle after knuckle pressed inside. Francis' back arched slightly, but mostly manually as he hoped to give Alfred better access.

"More?" Alfred asked softly, a sultry sort of tone in his voice. His cheek still rested against his husband's thigh. Francis nodded quickly, opening his own legs a little farther. Alfred pulled his finger back, added another, and went in again. Francis huffed, wiggling. His back arched again, this time not on purpose like before, and he bit his lip.

Alfred started to pull his fingers out and move them back in again, building a slowly accelerating rhythm to fingering Francis, which had the Frenchman grunting quietly and shivering happily. Soon, he was decently comfortable and very lubricated, and a very large hickey marked the inside of his left leg. Alfred pulled his mouth away from the skin, and Francis felt a chill as the moist flesh cooled back down because of the temperature of the room. Alfred's fingers went in again, forcing a small moan.

"Fais me foutre," He managed, not even sure if his words came out, let alone if they made any sense. Alfred pulled his fingers out slowly, grazing them along his husbands leg once they were back in the open air.

Shifting himself up the bed again, Alfred watched Francis bend his knees as he positioned himself between his legs. He put one hand into Francis' hair and looked him in the eyes, and the Frenchman nodded at him. He pressed his lips back over his husband's as he pushed inside of him, and he felt Francis groan against his mouth.

He was so tight and warm, and Alfred leaned forward so he could go deeper, feel more. His hands pressed into the bed on either side of Francis' head. As he pulled back so he could press forward and in again, he let his lips fall away from Francis' so they could both pant and moan freely and try to catch their breath. He nuzzled against Francis' hair and neck, almost dizzy from how great his husband's ass felt when it was flush with his skin. And Francis, he was blinking furiously and trying to focus his eyes, trying to form some semblance of encouraging or flirty words between moans and gasps. He wasn't having much luck in the verbal department, however. But what he wanted got across to Alfred, nonetheless, as the American continued to ever so slowly pick up the pace at which he pulled out and thrust back into his husband, hitting deeper nearly every time. Crashing right into the spot that nearly made him go blind from how insanely good it felt.

"Fu-fuck... Fuck me! Plus dur!" The words dribbled out. Francis dipped in and out of French, his words coming in clipped and jumbled. He managed some coherence, briefly, until one of Alfred's hands moved to his nipple and his mouth latched back onto his neck that was already black and blue with love bites, and then he slipped back into a series of unintelligible moans and groans. Sounds that made Alfred's hair stand on end as pleased goosebumps tickled his skin.

Francis was nearly in shambles, mind all ooey-gooey beneath Alfred's body. He blinked his eyes heavily as he moved his hips in time with his husband's driving into him. His mind was a frenzy of thoughts, of love and of lust, of that ineffable feeling of animalistic want that comes with amazing sex, and it was barely a conscious decision for him as he slid his hand towards his own neglected hard-on.

Francis only moved his hand back and forth a time or two before Alfred caught wind, and wrapped his own fingers around his husband's cock just below Francis' small hand. Alfred shifted his thumb and rubbed the underneath in small circles as he kept his hand sliding up and down, still maintaining rhythm to the thrust of his hips. In the flurry of sensation, the frenchman's hand fell away leaving his husband's to it's work. Francis struggled for breath, gasping and grunting, eyes widening. Heat and tingling pleasure sizzled below his belly button and he wasn't sure he could last much longer.

Lucky for him, Alfred was in a similar situation. His head was void of thoughts except for yes, more, fuck, and Francis. His muscles were tight, adrenalin pumped through his veins, and he felt like he was on fire with pleasure. Without thinking, when Francis' body bucked upwards as he grunted in bliss, Alfred pushed him back down to the bed at his shoulder and fucked him even harder.

"Ah—ahaha—!" Francis was almost choking on the words he wanted to say, on the fuzzy intentions to communicate how great Alfred was making him feel, how hot his roughness was, how he couldn't feel his toes. "Je vais ffff-foutre!"

Alfred smashed his mouth to Francis' again as he slammed into him. Francis nearly screamed into his lips, eyes rolling back as he felt white-hot ecstasy burning on every inch of his skin and in his blood. He came, and with the tightening of his muscles around Alfred's cock, it was only a few thrusts later that he followed. His eyes were a little wet from pleasure, and a strangled sort of moan vibrated against Francis' mouth as his body quaked. Another tingle tickled up Francis' spine as he felt his husband fill his ass with cum. And only as both of the men began to coast down from the height of their orgasms, did they part lips to pant and gasp for air.

Francis shivered when Alfred pulled out of him and flopped beside him on the bed. A few minutes passed as they caught their breath, each of their bodies relaxing a little, before Alfred propped himself up on his elbow and smiled a doughy smile at Francis.

"Hey, babe, whaddaya say we grab a bottle of wine and head out to the beach? We have a few glasses, take a dip in the ocean, enjoy the warm evening air, and then maybe come back in and go another round. Interested?"

Francis glanced over his husband's shoulder at the inviting ocean and soft-looking sand, and then nodded his head in a drowsy sort of way.

"Very, mon lapin. Even more so if you'll carry me, both because it's cute and because I'm not sure my legs will work right now." He replied, smirking almost sweetly. Alfred laughed.

"Deal."

— • — • — • —

When Alfred woke up the following day, sometime close to noon, to yellowy sunlight shining through translucent white curtains, his heart felt lighter than it ever had before. His gaze shifted down to his still sleeping spouse, and the rise and fall of his back as he breathed. The curve of his shoulder blades was fascinating, and his matted hair from the last night's enterprises was even still a gorgeous sight to see, and Alfred sighed aloud. He was beyond content.

"I am so glad you're mine and I'm yours," He whispered, getting a little teary yet again. "And I'll do whatever it takes to keep it that way forever. I love you." Francis didn't stir at all, but a few moments later he heard a sleepy response.

"Je t'aime aussi."


End file.
